If I Only Could
by Athena9
Summary: Sam's distrust of Aragorn on their first encounter is lightly dismissed, both by Tolkien and Peter Jackson. I've always wondered, how *did* Sam and Aragorn come to be friends? No Sam/Aragorn Slash, but Slashy overtones. Please R/R!


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Author : Athena

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Title : If I Only Could

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Completed : Yes

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Characters : Samwise Aragorn (/Frodo, Merry/Pippin)

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Rating : PG

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Genre : Angst

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Summary : Development of relationship between Sam/Aragorn after they leave Bree. Slash overtones.

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Disclaimer : Tolkien is god of fantasy. I bow to him, and the incredible characters that I have borrowed for my story.

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Story Notes : While I love Sean Astin and ***adore*** his portrayal of Sam in the movie, the picture I have always had of Sam is… hmmm.. Think Johnny Lee Miller with golden blond hair, sort of longish, like the hobbits had it in the movie. Also, I can't bring myself to see Sam as heavy. I mean, he came from a poor family and had worked hard since he was little. Why would he be ***heavier*** than the rich people ? Seems to me it should be the other way round. Sean plays a perfect Sam, he really does, but old fantasies are hard to escape from )

« With your leave, Mr. Frodo, I'd say *no* _!/This Strider here, he warns and he says take care and I say *_yes*_ to that, and let's begin with him. He comes out of the Wild, and I never heard no good of such folk. He knows something, that's plain, and more than I like but it's no reason why we should let him go leading us out into some dark place far from help, as he puts it.»_

«Well, » said Strider, «with Sam's permission we will call that settled. Strider shall be your guide. We shall have a rough road tomorrow. Even if we are allowed to leave Bree unhindered, we can hardly hope now to leave it unnoticed. But I shall try to get lost as soon as possible. I know one or two ways out of Bree-land other than the main road. If once we shake off pursuit, I shall make for Weathertop. »

~The Fellowship of the Ring, Book 1, Chapter 10 – Strider

They had settled quietly in for the night Merry and Pippin in one chair, Frodo in another, Strider in a third and Sam on the floor. They were not the most comfortable sleeping arrangements, but it could not be helped. The beds were in the adjoinding room, with the bolster-decoys in place of the hobbits. Should anything happen, the bolsters would be ruined, but the hobbits unharmed – such was the thought, at any rate. What would ***really*** happen remained to be seen. In the meantime, they had curled up on the couch and in the armchairs. As these were large and well-stuffed, it wasn't as uncomfortable as it might have been and indeed, Merry and Pippin were already fast asleep, curled against each other for warmth, and other reasons. Frodo had sat awake for a little while, staring thoughtfully into the space ahead of him, but as the sound of the younger hobbits' deep, even breathing filled the room, he, too, dropped off. He lay in the armchair now, his legs curled to his chest, his head on the armrest mouth slightly open. 

There was room enough, and chairs enough, for Sam to have had his own but when Aragorn suggested it, the young hobbit fixed him with a look which stated clearly that he had no intention of leaving his master's side. He had said nothing, merely given him the look and sat on the floor at Frodo's feet. He sat there now, arms locked around one updrawn knee, his head resting on the chair behind him. He had closed his eyes, for the moment, as though in thought and there was a slight furrow between his brows. Strider took the opportunity to look at him unnoticed. 

The undisguised distrust in Sam's eyes was still with him, and rankled him for reasons he did not understand.He did not know what to make of this halfling, who had come charging in, fists clenched, ready to do battle with a man twice his size and devil take the cost of it, for nothing and no one would come between himself and his master. Aragorn had been amazed at the deed, and at the fearlessness of it. For surely if it ***had*** come to blows, Sam would have been in a bad way Strider being much older (not to mention larger), and therefore stronger and more experienced. Yet it had not, and the moment had passed. But Sam's wariness remained. And that unnerved Aragorn, though he did not know why. It certainly wasn't the first time someone had distrusted him, and chances were it wouldn't be the last. So why, then, did this halfling's suspiscion irk him so ?

He looked at Sam, seated on the floor, one half of his face illuminated by the flickering light of the flames, the other silvered by the moonlight that streamed in through the window. His features were finer than those of most hobbits, fairer, more comely. A good straight nose, high cheekbones, pointed chin. Level black brows and long black lashes, framing eyes which, when open, were a deep, inky green – though this Strider was unaware of, for the room was too dark to tell, and Sam's eyes were themselves darkened with doubt. Indeed, his features were more those of an elf-child than a hobbit (though Sam himself would have sworn this wasn't so.)His hair, too, was something of a marvel – thick, soft, shining, ***golden*** hair, streaked through by the sun with lighter blond. Fair-haired hobbits were born once in a blue moon, or so Bilbo had told him. 

As Aragorn mused about the strangeness of this, suddenly there was a sound in the next room so faint it went unnoticed by the sleeping hobbits, but Sam's pointed ears pricked, and his eyes opened and met Aragorn's. They regarded one another for a moment. Another sound, and Sam got up slowly, silently, his head tilted to the side, listening. He perched cautiously on the arm of the chair in which Frodo was sleeping, and, with infinite gentleness, pulled his master into his lap and laid his head on his shoulder. Frodo stirred a little, then settled again in Sam's arms. Sam, for his part, held his master tightly, tense as a bowstring, ears alert to every sound, his eyes never leaving the door. Aragorn slipped Merry's sword from its sheath and stood by the fireplace, watching waiting. And so the morning found them, sleeping lightly, having kept the watch all night; Sam with Frodo still in his lap, and Aragorn still holding Merry's barrow-blade.

~*~*~*~*~*~*

Now they were out on the road, leaving Bree, and though it was early morning, they had a large crowd of annoying hangers-on, who had either witnessed or heard about the events of the past evening, and who were scandalized at the idea of the hobbits leaving with Strider, who was widely regarded in the area as a rather shady character, and one with whom respectable people (Big or Little) did not associate. As they walked on, though, the crowds lost interest and began to drift away, much to the relief of the five. 

Finally, the last few disappeared, and Aragorn turned to the hobbits, saying, « The time has come to get lost. If you'll follow me… » And so they followed him. Off of the road, down a hillside, through some briars, and then into the woods four hobbits, a Ranger, and a gaunt pony. All day they followed him, and he never once paused, for he knew this area well. The sun rose higher, but it was cool in the shade of the trees, and as they walked, Pippin began humming a tune, then singing. Presently, Merry and Frodo joined in, and their high, clear voices chimed softly in the wood. Aragorn smiled to himself, and looked back at them. 

Sam was not singing. It took Aragorn a moment to determine what exactly Sam ***was*** doing, for he seemed to be walking with his face pressed close to the pony's head. Then, below the singing, he heard a soft voice murmuring « … see now, it'll be alright Sam's got you now, not that wicked Bill Ferny, curse him. How could anyone mistreat a poor animal so ? An' him acting all along like it was you as deserved it, bein' an 'obstinate creature'. Obstinate, my eye. I'd like to strap 'im good for what he done to you, that miserable… Anyroad, you needn't worry about him no more. You'll never have to see him again, I promise you 'cause Sam'll take good care of you… » And so on, comforting the pony, speaking to him as though he were a person, and not an animal. The pony whickered softly, and seemed to understand allowing himself to be led without complaint.

Aragorn found himself smiling as he watched them, and the three singers, thinking his smile was meant for them, grinned back and sang another song. Just then, Sam glanced up, and caught Aragorn looking at him. The gentleness that had shone in his face while talking to the pony faded, and hardened into something else. His eyes held Aragorn's for a moment, then dropped to path in front of them. Aragorn's smile also faded, and again he felt himself unduly unnerved at Sam's apprehension. _Why won't he trust me ? The others do._ He sighed, turned around and continued walking but while the other hobbits continued singing, he did not hear Sam's voice again.

~*~*~*~*~*~*

They had eaten lunch « on the march », as it were, and did not stop till supper. They came into a clearing, and Aragorn announced that they would rest here for the night. Frodo, Merry, and Pippin sank down gratefully, while Sam unloaded the pony and Aragorn went to gather firewood. 

« You've been very quiet today, Sam », remarked Merry. 

« Yes, ***too*** quiet, » said Pippin with a grin. « What's the matter ? Cat got your tongue ? » 

Sam rolled his eyes. « Honestly, » he mumbled, « some people. » 

Frodo looked at him with more concern than amusement. « Something wrong, Sam ? » 

« No, sir, it's nothin'. »

« They're right, you know. You have been awfully quiet today. »

« Well, sir, p'raps I had nothing to say. »

Frodo stood and walked over to Sam, where he knelt pulling cooking gear out of his pack. Laying a hand on Sam's shoulder he asked softly, « Is it Strider ? Is that what's worrying you ? »

Sam did not look up, but said, « It was your call to make, sir, not mine. I trust your judgement. »

« But you don't trust Strider. » It was not an accusation, just a plain statement of fact.

Green eyes met his blue ones briefly, then looked away. « No, sir. »

Frodo sighed, but saw it was no use trying to persuade Sam otherwise.

« I'm sorry, sir. I know you trust 'im. An' so do the others. But I can't. Not yet. »

Frodo nodded, clapped Sam on the back, and went to sit with Merry and Pippin again. 

Sam returned to the business of taking things from his pack. His thoughts were in a turmoil, and they had been since last night. He didn't know what to think of this Strider person, whom the others so obviously trusted._ How can they be so blind ? _he asked himself. _Well, no, maybe not blind, but certainly not cautious ! This Strider here, he sits and stares at Master for a good half-hour, then after the « accident », drags him off into the bedroom to do I don't even know what. If we hadn't a come in just when we did… _Sam slowed in his movements as a wave of extremely unpleasant thoughts washed over him. _Supposing he had hurt Frodo ? What would I have done ? _And without a moment's hesitation, he thought, _I'd 'ave killed 'im, that's what._ But he had not hurt Frodo. _No, rather, after actin' strange all evening, he asks cool-as-you-please to be our guide. An' after all that ! An' what shakes me up worse is, Frodo *_accepted* _! An' so did the others ! Just disregardin' everything leadin' up to the moment, not even a second's thought on the matter. He says « trust me » an' they says « alright ». What were they thinking ?! An' all on account of some letter from Gandalf which may or may not 'ave applied to this man…oh, I don't know._

Sam had been told all his life not to question the doings of his elders and betters, and so, after his initial outburst, he had remained silent. What else was there for him to say on the matter ? They all knew what he thought of Strider (they couldn't possibly have missed it, had they been listening at all) they had all decided against him. He was the servant, they were the gentlehobbits he didn't trust Aragorn, they clearly did it was three against one, with Frodo at the fore. And that was that. 

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It's not that I don't like him, Sam reasoned. For he did, really, in spite of himself. Aragorn was strong, capable, practical, efficient – all qualities Sam greatly admired. And though his expression was grim and rather careworn, Sam's shrewd gaze read kindness in his sharp, grey eyes. And so his instinct was inclined towards believing this tall man, and trusting him the same as the others. But his reason balked at the idea. _You don't know him, Samwise; you only met him last night – and that under rather doubtful circumstances. Suppose you start trusting him an' it turns out he ain't what he says he is ? Or what we – they – think he is ? One of us gots to be on the lookout for these things. An' since they trust him so, it'll have to be me. Though I am sorry for it, at that. I think I've offended him, an' Master, too, by not believing him. But what else am I to do ? I'd kill myself if something 'appened to Frodo as I could've prevented with a bit more caution. But then supposing I'm wrong? Oh ! I don't know, I don't know…_ And so he kept his silence, while his thoughts whirled 'round inside him, leaving him with an aching worry in his chest and a dull throbbing behind his eyes.

Aragorn was having his own self-conflict. _Why should his doubt bother me so ? He is young, naïve, he doesn't know any better, this doubt is foolishness on his part…_And yet Aragorn knew this was not so, for he was a keen judge of character, and his judgement told him there was nothing foolish about Sam. Wary, yes cautious, yes. But these were qualities of wisdom, not foolishness. _And brave yes, he is brave. Devoted to all three, but to his master most of all. Loyal, certainly. To the point of recklessness, even,_ he thought, remembering again Sam's clenched fists and blazing eyes. _They love each other dearly, that much is clear. It is probably the only reason Sam follows now out of love for Frodo. And Frodo's love for him. Still, I wish… _Aragorn sighed, almost wistfully. _I wish he would have followed me for my own sake._ He shook his head, and walked back to the campsite with his bundle of firewood.

The night passed quietly enough. After their supper (which Sam had prepared), they had once again settled in for the night. Aragorn agreed to take first watch, and would have taken second, too, had Sam not spoken up. 

« I'll take second watch » he said. That was all, and he said it to no one in particular.

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He won't even look me in the eyes, thought Aragorn ruefully. _But why second watch ?_

Second watch is the worst watch of the night, because, coming between first and third watch, it breaks the sleep of whoever takes it. So then, why second watch ? Merry wondered aloud at the choice.

« No reason, Master Merry. Someone has to take it. » Sam said logically.

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An' I'll sleep light if my sleep's broken, so's I can hear Master if he needs me.

This was true, and so no more questions were asked. Merry and Pippin were to keep the third watch, the one before dawn. Aragorn noticed that while the other three drifted off to sleep promptly, Sam kept awake, as he had the night before. He cleared away the supper things, replaced them in his pack, put all the packs over by Bill, and then, and only then, did he sit down again. It was a warm night for autumn the last gasp of summer. Merry and Pippin were once again curled 'round each other, back to front, sleeping quietly. Sam had his back to a slender young ash, and had lifted Frodo into his lap. 

« It's alright, Sam, you can sleep » Aragorn said softly. « I'll keep the watch. »

« I'm not tired » Sam said in his quiet, rustic voice. This was a barefaced lie, especially because of the sleepless night they had spent before. His fair face was pinched, and there were shadows under his eyes. 

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He doesn't trust me he doesn't trust me why does this bother me so much ?

« Would you like to hear a story, then ? To pass the time ? » he asked.

Sam's eyes brightened and his expression grew lighter, younger. « Is it about Elves ? » he said eagerly.

Aragorn smiled. « Well, there are Elves in it, yes. »

Sam sighed contentedly and settled back against the tree to listen, as Aragorn wove for him a wonderous tapestry of a tale, and his eyes grew starry and distant as he pictured it. He wanted it to go on forever, quite forgetting that he did not trust the storyteller, so lost was he in the tale being told. But it ended, just as the second watch of the night began.

« Second watch, Master Samwise » Aragorn said. Sam's eyes, which had seemed so young and open and clear when listening to the story suddenly went opaque, as though he had swiftly drawn a veil across them, that Aragorn might not see inside. He nodded tersely, and, with care not to wake Frodo, pulled his sword from his sheath and laid it across his knees. Aragorn, disappointed with Sam's sudden change in mood, walked to the far side of the fire, which had burned low, and lay down there. Presently he slept the light, quiet sleep of the hunter, and the last image in his mind was of Sam, holding Frodo with one arm, his sword gripped tight in his right hand, as the starlight silvered his golden hair.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

If the night before had been warm, the next day was blisteringly hot. The travelers no longer had the shade of the trees to protect them, and the sun beat down upon them like a great golden hammer. To make matters worse, it was humid. Rivers of sweat ran down their bodies, causing their clothing to cling wetly to them, as they trekked across seemingly endless fields. 

« So. Hot. » Pippin panted.

« This heat is dreadful. » Merry agreed.

« Surely there's another way ? » asked Frodo, a little pleadingly.

« I'm sorry, my friends. There is no safer way. As for the heat – well, the heat cannot be helped. » said Aragorn apologetically.

« Well, ***I'll*** help it, » said Sam, looking exasperated. He paused for a moment and untied the sash 'round his waist, then pulled off his white woolen tunic, folded it up, placed it in one of the packs Bill was carrying (for today, Bill carried all the packs, even Sam's the heat was just too awful), and stood before them, bare to the waist, glistening with sweat, and utterly beautiful to look upon. Aragorn noticed how the eyes of the others swept over Sam appreciatively for several moments before Frodo asked, « Well ? And ***does*** it help ? »

« It's a fair step up from where things were before, Master, to be sure. »

« Alright, then » said Frodo, and proceeded to remove his own tunic. Merry and Pippin followed suit, and they all looked expectantly at Aragorn.

« It does help, at that, Strider » said Pippin.

Aragorn gave him a hard look before saying, « We Rangers are not in the habit of removing our clothing simply because of minor discomforts. » He said it with great dignity, but Merry and Pippin raised their eyebrows and grinned. 

« Oh, we ***are*** proud » said Merry. « Suit yourself, then. But it really does make a difference. » Aragorn shook his head and looked annoyed, but said nothing more. 

Now that they knew the general direction in which they were headed, it wasn't necessary for Aragorn to lead them. He fell to the back of the line, where he could keep an eye on them all. First Merry and Pippin, side by side, then Frodo, then Sam and Bill, and finally Aragorn. They made a strange company, had there been anyone to see, stranger even than before. Four shirtless hobbits, one slightly less gaunt pony, and a Ranger whose expression hovered somewhere between amusement and annoyance. He once again took the opportunity to observe them unnoticed. His shrewd glance missed nothing, and learned much from what it saw.

All four hobbits were slim and small-boned, rather like children. Merry and Pippin were lightly tanned, and had lean, athletic builds (coming from years of running through fields, climbing trees, swimming in ponds, and chasing their numerous cousins around.) Frodo's body was very slight, with narrow shoulders and a slender waist, and strikingly pale (Aragorn was afraid he would get sunburned). He had some muscle, though not much, for he had never really carried anything heavier than a book. He was, as the Gaffer had always referred to him, « jest a slip of thing ». From this Strider confirmed what he already thought : that these three were the children of the rich, and had never had to work to earn their keep. 

Sam was a different story entirely. He had the knotted arms and shoulders of one who has done hard labor from childhood. Bronzed by the sun, he had sleek, well-defined muscles that slid smoothly under taut skin whenever he moved.He, too, was slender, but more wiry than the others, with broad shoulders, a long waist, and narrow hips. Sam was the servant of the group, that much was obvious from his mannerisms, but his body proved it. This was one from a poor family, who ***did*** have to work for a living. As the sun rose ever higher, it struck gold into Sam's hair and made it shine beautifully. _He looks like an Elf._ Aragorn reflected for much of the afternoon on these, and similar, things.

Finally, when the day was wearing on towards evening, the heat abated. Frodo felt a little too cool, and put his tunic back on, but Merry, Pippin, and Sam relished the drop in temperature and stayed bare-chested a while longer. « It feels so ***good*** to be cool » Sam said suddenly and forcefully. The other three nodded in sympathy Sam had never cared for hot weather, and today had been particularly brutal. Frodo slung his arm around Sam's shoulders and squeezed tightly. « My poor Sam » he murmured. « You never could stand the heat. » He kissed the point of Sam's ear. Sam blushed and put his arm 'round Frodo's waist and held for a moment. _Oh, please, Frodo, don't let me go, I feel so safe with you…_

What they did not know was that the tight, hard ache of worry had been building up in Sam all day, as Strider led them further and further out into the Wild. For the knowledge that ****he did not know where he was being led**** had struck him swift and sudden as a blow. If they didn't know where they were going, there was no way for them to escape should things fall ill for them. _Idiot ! Imbecile ! How could you be so foolish ? Following like a whipped dog, an' never takin' no notice o' your surroundings so's you could find your way back if necessary ! Allowin' yourself to be lulled by stories, like an infant ! Stupid fool ! Now what ?! What happens now if he turns on us ? Hmmm ? Samwise ? Certainly lived up to your name today, didn't you ?! _And so on and on he raged at himself, while his instinct and his reason fought for supremacy. _Trust him ! _Instinct cried. _Trust him and all will be well !_ But Reason struck back. _Trust him and it may cost you all you have ! Your master and your life are in ***his*** keeping ! _Reason screamed. Sam was caught between the two in a merciless tug-of-war, and it was wearing him out rapidly. First pulled by Instinct, he would calm, and the burning anxiety ebbed. Then Reason took him throat, and the ache rose in him, hot and sick, and the blood sang in his ears and pounded in his head, and the heat ! oh, Eru, the heat was too much. It beat down upon them and trebled his misery.But he kept his silence, for he would not have the others know of his foolishness and indecision. He kept his silence, and he followed, this time with a sharp eye on the surroundings, searing onto his memory anything he thought might help them find their way back. 

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At last, at last ! he felt like singing, when the cool of evening came. Suddenly he felt much better. Without the intensity of the sun making everything seem harder, the tension in his chest eased considerably, as did the pain in his head. He smiled to himself. Instinct had him again, at least for the moment, and all seemed well. Strider had sung a bit of a song for them in Elvish as they walked, and Sam had felt very strange. _I so ***want*** to trust him. His eyes are kind,. an' he knows about Elves, an' he ***feels*** fair, like Master said, however he may look, and he hasn't tried anything yet, so maybe I'm wrong about him after all. Oh, I hope so. I ***want*** to trust him.I like him.His eyes are kind._

At last they came to their campsite. They were off of the fields and into the forest once more. Sam felt safer, somehow, with all the trees. Not so exposed.« We will rest here tonight » Strider said, as he had the night before, and so they sat down while Sam unloaded Bill, and Aragorn again went in search of firewood.

He was concerned for Sam, who did not seem to be well. Several times during the course of the day, he had paused and gripped his head with his left hand, his fingers twining tightly in his hair. And he would stand thus for a long moment before shaking his head and moving on. He had said no word of complaint, and the few times he had spoken during the day, his tone had been light. Still, Aragorn was worried that two nights without sleep were beginning to catch up with the young hobbit. 

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I wonder… he thought to himself. _But he seems the strongest of the four. Surely he would have the most endurance ? I don't know… Perhaps I'm wrong, and it has nothing to do with his body at all ? He thinks a great deal, and not all thoughts are pleasant… Maybe he shook his head to clear it ? Yes, that seems right to clear it…_ the course of his thought shifted. _He still doesn't trust me. I thought that after last night things would be – different, somehow. _ And they were, in a way. Sam had spoken directly to him 6 times that day (as opposed to twice, the day before) and his tone, while not warm, was certainly not *_un*_friendly. _And yet… _And yet. _He still doesn't trust me._ Aragorn sighed. _And why should that bite so deeply, son of Arathorn ? _he asked himself, and paused in his gathering to consider the question. _Because. Because he ***is*** the strongest of the four, whether he knows it or not. Strong in body, but more importantly, strong in mind and will and spirit.. He is the strength the others draw on, the rope they cling to. And yet he is not pulled under by their needs.For he is strong, and it is not mere resilience that he possesses.It's a living strength, an inner power, a pulsing light that would blind the world, if he unveiled it fully. I have known few Men, or even Elves, with a strength such as his. When the trials come – as they surely will – it is his strength that we will be borne on. _Aragorn did not know how he knew this, but he knew. _I would have him for my friend, and he would be a rare one. But he doesn't trust me, and he is not my friend. And it pains me to know this. What then, am I to do ? _he thought, as he returned with the firewood.

He set it down at the center of the clearing, and proceeded to place a ring of stones around it. Merry nudged Pippin, so they got up and helped, and when it was done, Aragorn began to lay the fire. Suddenly, there were two small, slim, brown hands in the pile, picking up the sticks and placing them, and the work was done in 5 minutes. Aragorn looked up in surprise at Sam, who walked to his pack and came back with flint-and-steel strikers, with which he lit the fire. He and Aragorn fed it for a few moments with the kindling wood to get it going, and then he sat back on his heels. « Eh, now, » he said, in a soft, wondering voice. « 'T is such a pretty thing. » And the firelight caught in his eyes, and Aragorn saw now that they were green, not black as he had thought before. _And so green. Deep green, dark green. Like shadows in a forest. Beautiful._ He cleared his throat.

« Thank you, Sam, for your assistance. I could not have done it so quickly otherwise. »

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At least you'll suffer yourself to be in my company.

It was Sam's turn to look surprised. « It weren't no trouble. » he said, in his soft, rustic voice.

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What's he thankin' me for ? It weren't no trouble, really. Just needed to be done.

« Still, it's much appreciated. »

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If only you had done it out of friendship and not duty !

Sam nodded once, and got his cooking gear set up. Frodo came over and helped him with it, though Sam protested he could do it on his own.

« I know, I know, » Frodo teased. « You can do ***everything*** on your own. Garden on your own, clean on your own, cook on your own. I suppose I should give this dratted piece of jewelry to you, for ***you*** to dispose of. On your own, of course. » The words were a little hard, but mischief shone in Frodo's great blue eyes and he was trying hard to keep a straight face. Sam's green eyes danced, and he crossed his arms over his chest. 

« Oh, really ? I'm that independent, am I ? Well, then, Master Baggins, let's see ***you*** do the cooking for tonight. Then we'll all understand why I'm so insistent on doing things on my own ! » Frodo burst out laughing and Merry and Pippin grinned. 

« I think that's the best rejoinder I've heard in long time, Master Samwise » said Merry. Sam grinned back and bowed with mock solemnity. 

His smile was rather startling to Aragorn, who had not seen it before. All hobbits have very good teeth, straight and white and even, and hence very nice smiles. It is their redeeming feature. Sam's smile started in his eyes and slowly, almost reluctantly pulled at the corners of his mouth. His teeth flashed white in his tanned face, and his eyes sparkled. _He's beautiful,_Aragorn thought to himself. One glance at Frodo told him the others were fully aware of it. 

Frodo's blue eyes drank Sam in as though he could never get enough, and Sam caught his gaze. They were close together, kneeling over the cooking things, almost touching and there was a sudden heat between them that had nothing to do with the fire. Sam leaned in closer and murmured into Frodo's ear, so low the others couldn't hear it, « 'Course, there are some things that aren't half as much fun when I do them on my own… » Frodo blushed and grinned again. He and Sam looked at each other for a long moment then, still smiling, went about the business of cooking their dinner. Merry and Pippin gave each other a long, meaningful look before standing up. « We're goin' for a walk, » said Pippin softly, before placing his hand in Merry's. « Don't go too far, little ones » Aragorn warned. Merry acknowledged the statement with a nod and they headed off.

All thoughts of Strider and the problems he presented had vanished from Sam's mind in the presence of those enormous blue eyes and the ache in his chest eased away at the heat in them. Frodo's soft, pink lips were slightly parted and Sam leaned closer still. Frodo, staring into the great green depths of Sam's eyes, had ceased to feel the chain around his neck, or the stiffness in his muscles, or fear of Black Riders, or anything at all, save a terrible hunger that filled him as he gazed. So lost in each other, they had forgotten Aragorn's presence till he called out to Merry and Pippin.

Jolted back into reality, still Frodo would have held Sam's gaze, but Sam was looking over at Aragorn, his expression set, as it had been before. No joy or mirth in him now his whole body tensed with apprehension, watchfulness. Frodo was suddenly angry with both of them with Sam for not trusting Aragorn, with Aragorn for having – unintentionally, albeit – spoiled the mood. He frowned down at the supper things as though he could blame them. Sam bowed his head and they finished their work in silence.

__

Why ? Why does ***he*** have to be here ? It's none of ***his*** business, anyways, who or how I love… _And now I've made Master angry with me. 'Cause I don't trust that Strider far as I could throw 'im, an' he's a big man, so that's saying a lot. Oh, but I wish I could, though. Oh, how I *_**wish_**_*_…everything would be so much easier if I could. But I can't. I can't. _The ache was clutching at his chest, making it hard for him to breathe, and the pounding behind his eyes came back in force. One vulnerable moment, and Instinct was thrown to the winds. Now there was fear. He looked at Aragorn in desperation, half-willing him to understand and end this whole misery. Aragorn looked back at him, puzzled, and Sam saw concern in his grey eyes. _So kind, his eyes are, so very gentle…_

« Samwise, » Aragorn said, « you should eat something. »

__

You look weary, and anxious.

« Thank you, but I'm not hungry » he answered quietly.

__

My head's hurtin' so bad I might be sick.

« Sam, are you ill ? » Frodo asked with concern.

Sam swallowed hard. « I … » 

__

Does worried sick count ?

« Sam ? » Aragorn looked at him questioningly.

__

You've gone pale suddenly, and your expression is strained, but not from illness, I don't think. 

« I have a headache » he whispered tiredly.

__

There. I've said it. Said ***something*** at least. Now will you leave me alone ?

Aragorn was already retrieving something from his pack. It was a small glass bottle. He poured some of the hot water left over from the supper into a bowl and put a pinch or two of a light brown powder into the water. He then walked over to them and held the bowl out to Sam.

« This should help » he said.

Sam looked at the bowl, and then at Aragorn. _Just take it from him, _said Instinct. _He's trying to help._ Sam looked at the bowl again. _No ! Don't take it ! _cried Reason (ever the louder of the two, and the less helpful) _You don't know what he's put into it ! Supposing it puts you to sleep – or worse ?_ Sam looked up at Strider. _Take it ! –_ the bowl. _Don't ! – _Strider. _Trust him ! – _the bowl. _Fear him ! – _Strider. All the agony of Sam's doubt burned in his eyes, and he suddenly felt as though he would faint. 

Strong arms were around him, and he heard Frodo's cry of alarm. The bowl jarred against his teeth. « Swallow » Aragorn commanded gently, and Sam obeyed without thinking. It tasted smokey, like dried leaves, but not bad. He opened his eyes and looked up at Aragorn, who still looked concerned. Already, the pain in his head receded.

« Thanks » was all he said. What else was there to say ?

« Sam, are you alright ? » Frodo looked frightened.

« Yes, sir, I just… » he trailed off.

« Two days' hard marching and two nights without sleep have left him a little drained, is all » said Aragorn, coming unexpectedly to Sam's rescue. « He needs rest. » Sam looked at him uncertainly, before nodding.

« Well, he should eat something first » said Frodo, very much relieved to have an explanation. And so Aragorn set him down and he went and sat by the fire. Frodo tried to convince Sam to eat more, but a piece of bread was all he wanted. He took his time with it. 

Merry and Pippin returned from their wanderings a short while later, their dark curls tousled, and both looking rather breathless. Merry had a red mark low on his throat, and Pippin's lips looked bruised and swollen. Their arms were about each other's waists. Aragorn gave them a questioning look, but they blushed, and did not meet his eyes. Rather, they sat down and set to with great gusto, for they were hungry, healthy hobbits, with none of the concerns that crowded Sam's appetite into non-existence. 

Presently, they were all finished, and Frodo asked for a song before they slept. So Aragorn sang to them again in Elvish, and the song was light and sweet for it spoke of the flowering of the trees in Spring – something which has ever brought joy to the Elves. They smiled, when it was finished even Sam, who was gazing into the fire, his head on Frodo's shoulder, looked up into Aragorn's eyes and smiled uncertainly.

As before, Aragorn called first watch, and this night he took second, as well. It was Merry and Pippin's job to keep third watch. And so, for the third time, they bid each other good night. Sam was very tired, but he couldn't sleep. _There's things as need clearing up, Samwise. Now's as good a time as any._ Frodo had already fallen asleep, as had Merry and Pippin. _As if they didn't have a care in the world. Wish I could sleep so easy._ Sam sighed, and carefully extricated himself from Frodo's arms. Looking around for a moment, his sharp eyes picked out Strider's silhouette a short distance off, standing on a small hill. Walking silently, as only Elves or hobbits can, he came and stood beside Aragorn. 

« Hello, Sam » said Aragorn, who did not sound surprised. « You should be sleeping. »

« I know that, sir. But I wanted to – to thank you for – for whatever it is you gave me. It did help. And for speaking up for me like that. To Master, I mean. » He hesitated, unsure of how to go on.

Aragorn laughed quietly. « There is no need to thank me, Samwise. But that's not the reason you came, is it ? » And he turned to face Sam, who stood looking up at him. « Come, let's sit down. » They walked a short ways and found an old log. When they had seated themselves, Sam spoke up again.

« No, it's not the reason I came. There's things as need clearing up, I think. And I can't sleep till the job's done » he said.

« Yes. There are questions to be answered, it's true. But I have only one question to ask of you, Samwise. »

« I'm listening » Sam said, his expression curious.

« _Why don't you trust me ?_ » Strider asked. His voice was soft and serious, and his expression looked to Sam a little sad. But whatever he had had in mind, he was not prepared for Sam's answer.

« Oh, I am sorry. Truly. » he whispered.

__

Sorry ? 

Seeing Aragorn's puzzled expression, he answered, « For hurting you so. I'm sorry. »

« But why don't you trust me ? » Aragorn asked again, privately wondering at the halfling's perception. 

« Oh, but can't you see _I want to ?_ » Sam replied with sudden passion. The veil behind his eyes was drawn back, and they were clear, and bright, and deep as they burned into Aragorn's. « Can't you see how much _easier _ it would be if I _could ?_ If I could only trust you, as the others do, and not have to think all the time, and worry all the time – if only… ! » he broke off and stood abruptly, with his back to Strider. 

« You see, Strider, how much I want this ? And how easy, how deliciously _easy_ it would be ! Which is why I can't, you understand. It would be too easy. It's things that's foolish which is simplest to do. » He shook his head and turned back to Aragorn. « Oh, sir, I wish – I wish with all my heart, sir, that I _could_ trust you. But I can't afford to, you see. Ever since we left the Shire, there's been a feeling I can't shake a creeping feeling between my shoulders - like being watched by someone you can't see - or a cold hand on the back of my neck… » Sam paused for a moment to see if Aragorn understood, before continuing. « … and a thought comes to me, like a whisper in my mind somewhere, somehow, sometime, I'll put my trust in the wrong person and it'll cost me all I have. I can't let that happen, sir, _I can't, I can't !_ » His voice sharpened suddenly, and his eyes went wide and glossy. « _I can't lose him I'll die if I lose him don't you see ? All I have… !_ » he gasped. « Oh, I don't know, I don't know ! And I _want _to trustyou_, _save me, sir,I want it so badly it _hurts !_ But I don't _know_ whether I can, and I would if I could but I _durstn't, _sir, and it's _tearing me apart oh please show me I can trust you I want to I need to oh please…_ » 

« _Oh, child !_ » Aragorn cried, and he lifted Sam into his arms and held him tightly. Tears ran down Sam's young face, and his slender body shook with the force of his weeping but he wept quietly, for all that. 

« _I can't lose him, I can't, I can't_ » he sobbed into Aragorn's shoulder.

« _Shhhh, little one…_ » Aragorn murmured, and did his best to soothe him. There was in his heart a fierce ache for the young man in his arms, and Sam's grief and fear was echoed in Aragorn's own spirit. _Lose him ? No, you could never lose him. Not you. For you, death would come first.And it must be a terrible burden for one so young, to love so selflessly - and to know the cost of such love. Poor child, poor sweet child…so young, and yet so old. Poor sweet child…_ he thought as he rocked him back and forth. After awhile, Sam quieted, and raised his head from Aragorn's shoulder. His fair face was pale and tear-streaked, and tears were still caught on his long lashes. His green eyes were very, very tired. _Can I trust you now ? _ they questioned silently. Smiling down at him, Aragorn raised a hand and gently wiped the tears from Sam's face. A small gesture, but it said all Sam needed to hear. « _Thank you_ » he whispered, and lay back in Aragorn's arms. His eyes closed and his body relaxed and his breathing grew deep and even. Still Aragorn held him, stroking his hair and thinking quietly. He kept the watch all night, not bothering to wake Merry and Pippin. When dawn came, the others awoke and found them, still on the hillside Sam cradled in Aragorn's arms like a sick child, his head on Aragorn's shoulder. Aragorn's expression was soft and pensive. 

« Strider ! » said Pippin. « There you are ! Why didn't you wake us ? » 

Merry elbowed him sharply and, pointing at Sam, gestured to be quiet. Pippin glared at Merry, then looked apologetically at Strider. « Sorry » he mumbled.

« Is Sam ill ? » Merry said, with an anxious look to Sam's sleeping form. Strider shook his head.

« No, not ill. But over-tired and over-anxious. He's worn out. Go back to sleep » he whispered to the hobbits. « We will not leave here till he wakes, which may be awhile, yet. » 

« Is everything alright ? » Frodo asked quietly. 

Aragorn considered the question for a long moment. « Not yet. » he said. « But I think it will be. » And he smiled at the young man sleeping in his arms. 


End file.
